


In For a Penny

by poisontaster



Series: Every Broken Thing [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Begging, Consensual Underage Sex, Frottage, Guilty Pleasures, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pre-Series, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-27
Updated: 2006-07-27
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:46:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5501486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Sam needs him, there's nothing Dean won't do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In For a Penny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ephemerall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemerall/gifts).



> This is set only a few months after the flashback in Take it All Away, before they've got a routine down about this sort of thing. This places their ages at about twelve and sixteen for those playing at home. 
> 
> Many thanks to fashes, exsequar, shadow_walker3 and maygra for addressing my various and sundry issues. My love for you guys is like my love for fandom: infinite and without bounds.

Dean's not a heavy sleeper. But living in close quarters with Dad and Sammy his whole life means they don't trigger his alarm bells like other stuff would. Otherwise, he'd never get _any_ sleep, between Sam's nightmares and Dad's insomnia. So when a body, warm and smelling like sleep and boy and Sammy, settles against him, Dean sort of drifts up long enough to identify all that, but then he sinks back down again.

At least until the rocking starts.

"Sammy?" He's tired. He's dog tired. Obviously, if he'd fallen asleep sitting up like this. Dad was pushing his training real hard before leaving town and Sam's been edgy and weird for days, hardly sleeping—which means Dean's hardly sleeping either. "…t'fuck, man?"

"I can't, Dean." Sam's voice makes Dean open his eyes. It's desperate, agitated. And he thinks maybe he knew all the time what was happening, because he sure doesn't feel as surprised as he probably should to see Sam, pajama pants shoved down around his thighs, fisting his cock fast, hard and frantic. Even though they're alone in the apartment, Sam's whispering. "I can't sleep and I keep trying and I _can't_."

"Can't what?" Dean's brain is as moving slow as he is. He gasps as Sam rocks back hard, grinding against his half-interested cock—which quickly and painfully makes theswitch to _completely_ interested.

"Can't make it come," Sam whines at the same moment Dean puts it together and says, "Oh."

"Sam—"

"Dean, _please_."

And this is Dean's fault. He knows this. The first time, helping Sammy, that was…well, that was just fucked up. No question. But Sam _needed_ it. And then they'd moved on and put it behind them and Dean knew he shouldn't have let this keep going. Shouldn't have let Sam crawl into his bed too many nights, shaking and messed up from some other dream or nightmare. Shouldn't have let Sam curl up next to him while Sam jerked off, making those soft needy moans that left him hard and half-crazy, waiting for it to go away.

But it's _Sam_. And that makes certain things…inevitable.

"Shh," Dean says, automatically. It's a reflex to the tone, not the situation. He wraps his fingers around Sam's wrist, stilling the frantic pump of Sam's hand. "It's okay, Sam. Shhh."

"Dean—" Sam says again. His cock looks red and angry, thick and slick and even with Dean's hand over his wrist holding him still, his hips still buck softly—up into his fist, down against Dean's groin.

"Fuck," Dean mutters to himself. Sam makes a stifled, hurt sound in the back of his throat. He slides his left arm around Sam's waist, making gentling circles over Sam's belly. Sam's damp, gasping and panting like he's been running. "Shh," he says again. "It's okay, Sam. I know what you need."

At the words, practically ritual now, Sam lets out a half-sob, his head falling back on Dean's shoulder and grinding against his collarbone. At this angle, Dean can see the tears that make rainbow glimmers on Sam's eyelashes. "Please, Dean," he breathes. "I just want to come. I just wanna come, so I can sleep, please…"

"Yeah," Dean says roughly, trying to ignore the enthusiastic seconding of his dick. He widens the space between his legs, letting Sam fit more tightly against him and his thumb strokes the jittering pulse in Sam's captive wrist. "Okay. Okay. Just… Jesus, Sam; you're never going to come like that—you're gripping it so hard I'm amazed it didn't just fucking twist off."

"Don't—" Sam shakes his head, rocking over Dean's shoulder bone. "Don't, Dean. I've been… Dammit. It _hurts_. God, hurts so much and I think…I think if I could just _come_ …"

"Yeah," Dean says again. He slips his thumb over and between Sam's thumb and his prick, forcing Sam's grip to relax, resettle. "Just…you gotta let it happen, Sam. You can't just… It's your _dick_ , man. You gotta show it some respect. Here. Like this." He slides his hand down a little bit, so it's clasped loosely over Sam's fingers. "There you go. Hard, but not _too_ hard."

Sam moans, louder than Dean's ever heard him, as Dean sets the rhythm and pressure. His ass grinds against Dean and Dean finds his hips moving to the same rocking slide, his cock half-cradled in Sam's body. _It's for Sam,_ he thinks, narrowing his focus to Sam's big hand and the soft-hard line of red cock slipping through their tangled fingers. _He needs this. It's not about you, Dean._

"Yeah?" Dean queries. Sam's head shifts and tickles against Dean's cheek; Sam's eyes are closed, his mouth open. Some of the desperate, twisting tension is fading out of Sam's limbs, replaced by the normal tension of getting your dick stroked. And that's good. That's real good.

"Yeah," Sam agrees and then whines again, back arching. "Yeah, Dean, please…"

"Shh… I told you I'd take care of you, Sammy." He presses Sam's fingers in, against the underside of the head, where he's noticed Sam seems to like it best. Another groaning, tearing moan and shuddering wiggle that sends all the blood rushing from Dean's brain elsewhere. Sam wriggles, snugging tighter against Dean again.

"Talk to me," Sam whispers. "I just…if you talk then I… I don't think so much and then…fuck, Dean…it's good. Please. So good."

Dean's too far gone himself to worry about calling Sam on language. "Okay. Yeah. Look, you gotta learn what you like, Sam and…and don't rush it. Don't force it. Your body wants to come. You just have to let it…"

Sam's biting his lip, thrusting harder; that's Dean's cue to speed up…and that's when he realizes that at some point, Sam's hand has slipped out from under his to fist in the blanket and the only thing between him and Sam's dick is… Well, there's _nothing_ between him and Sam's dick. Those are his fingers clasped around his baby brother's… Jesus. It feels…it feels completely different from his own and exactly the same and Dean's so freaked out by it, he fumbles the stroke.

"No," Sam whimpers. "No, please, Dean. I just…you can do it. Can you…? Please. I'm almost there, if you would just… I want. I need, Dean. Need it." Sam's voice breaks and trembles; his head pushes back against Dean's shoulder until it hurts.

Dean sighs and shifts, bringing his own aching cock closer to the sweet little curve where Sam's spine dips and swells out into his ass. Sam inhales sharply then pushes back again, riding against Dean. God. Sam's not the only one who's close. Dean closes his eyes, doesn't think about that as he resumes the soft-wet-hot-slick glide of his fingers over Sam's shaft.

"Yes," Sam breathes. "God, Dean. Yes. Please. Tell me… Keep…"

"I know," Dean answers. "I know, Sam. It's okay. C'mon, baby. Just…just let it go. Let it all go. I'm right here. I got you, S…"

Sam arches up, harder than the other time, more violent, spurting in hot bursts as the orgasm takes him. He's bucking and thrusting through it, graceless and wild and something about it, something about Sammy unleashed and uncontrolled flat _does it_ for Dean and he pulls Sam tighter against him as he pumps and grinds to his own climax. Sam's calling Dean's name like it's the only word he can remember how to say and Dean buries his face in the uncut mess of Sam's hair, biting down on his own cry.

It's a slow, hurtful come down to awareness. Sam is slack against him, still twitching against him and making soft noises in the back of his throat but more than halfway to sleep. Dean breathes and tries to shift; Sam makes a wounded noise of protest and tucks tighter against him, fingers clutching loosely. Dean rolls his eyes. "Unfuckingbelievable," he mutters under his breath. Sam turns his face up, into the curve of Dean's neck, nuzzling lightly. A soft snore is Sam's only response.

Dean sighs and settles back against the headboard again. He's got come all in his shorts, which—ew—and Sam's is all over his fingers and palm. He thinks about wiping it on the sheet, but they don't really have the money to do laundry before Dad gets back and he'd rather not have to hand wash them along with everything else. Dean looks at his hand a minute. Finally, he shrugs and licks it clean. It's not awful.

"Dean," Sam whispers and settles deeper against him.

"Yeah, kid," Dean murmurs, pushing Sam's hair off his forehead. Kid's already sweating like a stove. He lets his head loll back. It's going to be a long rest of the night. "It's cool. I got you."

Sam snores again, louder this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it sad and pathetic that I have authorial rambling after a PWP? More importantly, do I care? This story was sort of on my radar for a little while, because I was thinking about this 'verse and contemplating how exactly Dean and Sam made the transition from Sam masturbating with Dean to being jerked off by Dean (these little details fascinate me *hangs head*). So mona1347 and I talked about it and she had this basic scenario already in mind and we sort of tossed it back and forth and I asked her if she was wedded to the idea of writing it and she said, "*handwave* Go forth and fic. You'll probably get there before me, anyway." *facepalm* She knows me so well.
> 
> But it's kind of a big deal, you know? This is part of what sets their whole routine with each other and they still are a) so STUPIDLY young at this point and b) so very much in love with each other, especially in Sam's case. There are certain touchstones that they come back to in Every Broken Thing/Heart 'verse: Sam's sensitivity to touch, Dean licking it away, "I know what you need.", Dean talking Sam through it, etc. All of it solidifies as a kind of ritual to them, something they DO and do together…but they didn't go into it with the intention of creating a ritual for themselves and that means it had to develop sort of organically. So then I want to know, well, how did they DO that? And then I write porn. Ahem.
> 
> What I really like about this fic is that, although it's from Dean's POV and centers largely around Dean's concern to help Sam, I see this as Sam really manipulating Dean (as he's wont to do) in the only way he can, being too young and inexperienced to know how else to get what he needs/wants from Dean. In my mind, Sam's been edging towards this for a while. And Dean is almost entirely unaware of it. And this pleases me. Because Sammy SO pwns Dean and vice versa.


End file.
